Christmas at Home (Spikes & Spurs #5) - Carolyn Brown Page 0,47
in shadows. The other parts’ icicles glistened with the sun rays sneaking in from the edges of the dark clouds.
“It’s wonderful,” she whispered.
“I thought you’d like it. I just wish that pair of cardinals would have come back so you’d have had some more color.”
“I see color. There’s green in the mistletoe leaves and red in the berries and the clouds are throwing beautiful shadows.”
“What clouds?” He looked up. “Oh, I didn’t see those.”
Sage smiled. He was the messenger, but the best had been saved especially for her. She shoved the camera into her pocket and kissed him on the cheek.
His arms went around her and he pulled her so close that the sunlight couldn’t sneak between them. “I really do like you, Sage Presley.”
Her heart came to a screeching, skidding stop. “Like” meant commitment and that was a big black cloud without a silver lining.
“Now back to the house,” he said. “You’ve got one to finish and one to start. The phone is already working and the electricity will soon be on, which will open up cell phones and laptops. Your uninterrupted days are about to come to a halt.”
“Creed, I…” she stammered.
He laid a hand over her lips. “No explanations necessary.”
“Really?”
“Really. I think you know your way back inside. I’ll be there in an hour to grab a Reuben dog and then I’m going to come back outside until dark. I’ve been cooped up so long if I go back inside I’m going to get so grumpy that you’ll throw me out the front door and lock it.”
* * *
He watched her jog back toward the house, camera in hand and hair flowing in the wind. She hadn’t said that she was sorry but she didn’t like him, that his kisses were just something to ease her boredom.
That was progress.
Creed had broken lots of horses in his time. Some of them required a lot of care and attention before he put the saddle on their back and his foot in the stirrup. He knew how to be patient even if it wasn’t one of his virtues.
“I’m not comparing her to a damn horse,” he mumbled before the voice in his head had time to smart off to him.
* * *
Ada was on her way back to the house from the mailbox when her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her coat pocket and answered it on the third ring.
“Grand!” Sage said. “I miss you horrible. Do you realize this is the longest we’ve been away from each other since I moved home from college? No, it’s the longest ever because when I was in college I came home every single weekend.”
“Slow down, kiddo! Tell me about the cowboy. Where is he?”
“Out making pathways for the cows so they will have dirt under their feet instead of snow. I’m glad I never learned to knit or he’d want me to make little socks for them,” she said.
“So he cares for his cattle, does he?”
“He’s a cowboy from the heart out, Grand.”
“Okay. Now tell me about you. You got any painting done with all the snow?”
Sage went into a long detailed description of her mistletoe pictures and what Marquee said about them. She even told her grandmother about the latest one that Creed had found for her. “He’s got an eye for seeing the unusual for sure. But he didn’t see the shadows,” she said and caught her breath before going into more detail about the newest picture.
“Heard from Lawton?” Ada changed the subject.
Sage launched into April’s tale of woe and ended up with the fact that Lawton was still planning the Christmas party on the third Saturday in December. Since they’d missed the annual Hanging of the Green because of the storm, they were having it the next day after the Christmas party.
“I always enjoyed that ceremony. It moves the soul,” Ada said.
“Come home and go with me. We’ve gone to the Hanging of the Green my whole life. I can’t believe you are going to miss it.”
“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said that Essie needs me, Sage. She actually crawled up on the house to nail down shingles.”
“Shit!”
“You said it! Her boys want to put her in a nursing home.”
“Never! I won’t have it, Grand. Neither of you are ever going to a nursing home. Aunt Essie can come here.”
“She’d wilt in the Texas heat at her age. Speaking of the weather, don’t forget to put flowers on the graves. Red poinsettias for the holidays.”